Landfills of the Heart
by Dark Mirage1
Summary: How Catherineand Incident Xcame to be the aftermath of Incident X.


1991 Landfills of the Heart21

**1991**

"Dr Breedlove, I'm sorry, but I fail to see how babysitting Miss Hartman can be considered one of my security duties."

Mason Eckhart crossed his arms in front of himself, dreading and resenting the possibility of working evenings saddled with the responsibility of protecting the frothy Danielle from her own immaturity and abysmal judgment.

For a moment, Paul Breedlove reconsidered assigning Mason Eckhart the task of keeping an eye on the flighty Danielle. Eckhart had been putting in even longer hours since his wife had left him. He'd lost weight, looked half-sick all of the time, and appeared to be in need of sleep. But there was no one else Breedlove trusted as much to keep a tight rein on the giddy stealth mutant.

Eckhart might be running himself into the ground physically and emotionally, but his work displayed no decline in quality or quantity. His attention to critical detail remained focused. His character had not suffered, either. Danielle's tendencies towards erratic, emotional, and irresponsible behavior demanded a caretaker of high standards of conduct and conscience.

"Danielle Hartman is critical to the stealth program. We cannot keep her locked up night and day, but we dare not allow her to display her abilities in public."

Eckhart shook his dark head. Just that morning he had noted the presence of his first grey hairs, a reminder of the finite nature of life. "Dr Breedlove, I have worked with Miss Hartman on and off since joining Genomex. I've reviewed all of the technical papers detailing the extraordinary potential of stealth mutants in human intelligence, in circumstances where there is no substitute for agents in place on the ground. However, we have suffered unlucky losses among the stealths. I fully understand your desire to make a success of the stealth program, but temperamentally, Miss Hartman is ill-suited for intelligence work. She is unfocused and easily distracted. By placing high hopes upon her, I believe you are 'betting on the wrong horse'."

"I'm inclined towards full agreement with your assessment of Danielle Hartman. I cannot quibble with your argument. Unfortunately, I am under pressure to deliver a functional steal mutant intelligence agent, no matter what."

"Miss Hartman could prove an intelligence liability, motivated chiefly by the desire to be entertained and follow her fickle whims. Maturity has not come to her with age. An ordinary human woman, of equal intelligence and education, but motivated by patriotism and serious purpose, would in my opinion prove vastly more valuable and worthy of the effort and expense of training."

"Again, we agree. But I have not been allowed the option of declaring her a likely to fail liability. Trust me, I've done my best to change certain minds, but they remain entranced by the notion of "stealth mutant" and ignore the problems of the individual. Danielle Hartman must be watched, and carefully."

"I understand. Why don't you ask Ms Chavez to hold the leash? She's levelheaded and intelligent. I've trusted her for years to babysit Grey, and you know how particular I am about the individuals allowed influence or time around him. Ms Chavez is on a whole other level of maturity compared to our wayward stealth."

"Thank you. Coming from you, I know the compliment is sincere. Eleanor and I think a lot of Andrea as well. Unfortunately, Andrea has had a falling out with Danielle recently. I'm not exactly displeased. Miss Hartman was a silly but amusing influence when they were younger, but now, with Andrea graduating college and beginning her career here, I've worried about her getting caught up in Danielle's irresponsibilities and being dragged down by her."

"They've been friends forever. What happened?"

"Andrea doesn't want to talk about the details. She says if she does, she'll betray a trust. I have to respect that. She assures me nothing illegal is involved, and that she'd tell us if Miss Hartman was in any real trouble. Knowing Andrea as we do, however, Eleanor and I have a good idea of what is going on."

Eckhart was not inclined to pry into the private concerns of Paul Breedlove's ward Andrea. He liked and respected the girl too much, but he made a mental note to be vigilant for any negative influence Danielle might have upon Andrea.

He uncrossed his arms, and sighed. "Dr Breedlove, why not make Adam earn his keep for a change? He's not exactly pushing back the frontiers of science these days. A lot of whining and moaning about Adam's lack-of-work habits comes my way from sources at all levels these days. Put him to work."

Breedlove's expression darkened. "Adam is the kind of peril from which I want Danielle protected, although if I read Andrea correctly, in the case of Adam I'm already too late."

"Oh, dear God. Adam is old enough to have fathered Danielle Hartman."

Paul Breedlove shrugged. "Well, he's not quite that old, although physiologically it's possible, however tacky it would have been chronologically. I'm not trying to excuse the way he's conducted himself of late. Adam spent his teenage years acquiring advanced degrees and living like a monk. Lately, he's behaved like a teenager who just discovered sex, and has an excess of hormones coursing through his bloodstream. I have no control over Adam's private life, but I don't want him doing anything witless to jeopardize what remains of the stealth program."

"It might be simplest to send Miss Hartman to Dr Hibbing for a prescription for contraceptives."

"Confidentially, that is scheduled. Whether she will faithfully take the medication is another issue."

"Don't you have any influence left with Adam? One of these days his amoral behaviors could have nasty consequences for Genomex. A jealous boyfriend or betrayed husband, governed by their emotions, could report to work some morning prepared to murder Adam. And I would not blame them, but I like to believe I am too civilized to do the same, not because Adam doesn't deserve killing for destroying my marriage and family but because I do not want to burden my children with the emotional freight of a father who did murder."

Paul Breedlove stared silently at Eckhart for several moments. He admired Eckhart for his brilliance and rationality, but his calm, reasoned tone used while explaining why he had not killed Adam was more frightening to Breedlove than any display of personal rage witnessed in his life.

"I'm sorry, Mr Eckhart. I'll talk to Adam but he hasn't listened to me about matters of personal conduct for some time. Adam has no grasp of the notion that actions have consequences and how much he is hurting other people."

"He's too old and too intelligent to conduct himself like a stud horse around mares in estrus."

"I know. If I ever discover he has used Andrea, I'm not sure what I would do or if I could control myself. I might just do murder. I expected so much better from Adam…"

"If I agree to babysit Miss Hartman, would you mind if I came in later the following morning? I need sleep desperately."

"Of course. Sleep in, if you can. I promise to assign you this duty as infrequently as possible."

"Thank you."

"Have you talked to your personal physician or Dr Hibbing about your problems with sleep? They could prescribe something, just for the short term, of course."

"I don't want to get started taking pills. I hate taking medication. Solutions to my problems won't come out of a little amber-colored plastic bottle, but I do appreciate your concern."

"You're most welcome."

Mason Eckhart rose from his chair and left Paul Breedlove's office. In the corridor outside, he came to stop at one of the floor to ceiling windows looking out over the lake.

The waters were dark green, nearly black, and the waves were as high as he'd ever seen them. Dark grey clouds churned overhead, dark and forlorn as his mental state, as dark grey as the conservative, no-nonsense suit he wore. For a moment he imagined himself as one of the grey clouds churning above.

I was so careful. I thought I had done everything correctly. I'm no stranger to cruelty or craziness. I did everything I knew to make a family, a real one, a solid one, everything Marc and I never had from Mom and Dad. I listened to Jackie. I talked to her. I opened my heart to her. And in return, she packs up the house, hauls off my children, all because Adam makes a promise of marrying her once she is free of me? I have no illusions of personal perfection, but can the woman have no heart? Does she have any idea what she has destroyed?

He knew the answer. No.

Jackie's pretty face and charming manner won for her whatever she needed. Individuals of more ordinary looks made their way through life by proving their worth, by earning respect, by character and accomplishment. All decorative people had to do was smile and say the right things. Even with Adam already moving on to Danielle Hartman –Danielle!—Eckhart knew it would not be long before Jackie found someone else to smile at, someone else who would not believe his astonishing good fortune in merely acquiring the attention of this dazzling creature.

How many strikingly good-looking women –or men—have I known who were good people, accomplished individuals? Not many. Most of them don't learn the hard lessons required to become fully human.

What happens to these people if they become maimed or disfigured? How do they know who they are? What happens when they simply grow older? Do they spend the balance of their time bewailing the loss of youth?

Jackie will teach my children that being charming and decorative is the apex of human existence. How do I teach them otherwise, from a distance, to develop character and values? She'll make fluffy-brained lovelies out of Deirdre and Michelle, and mold Grey to literally look skin deep only. Grey will repeat my mistake. How do I make them…human?

The pain of losing Jackie was transforming into corrosive bitterness and cynicism, but the agony of losing his children was deepening, much like watching Marc drown, save that this loss had no temporal endpoint.

Mason Eckhart could not imagine circumstances under which he would have faith and trust in another human being.

"Why country and western, Ms Hartman?" Eckhart's grey suit and short, conservative haircut made him stand out in this crowd, and made him look like what he was, Danielle's guardian and keeper.

Danielle giggled. "Something different. A different crowd."

"This dreadful music alone is enough to drive me to drink."

While he did not care for the music, the lyrics top-heavy with betrayal and loss were not what Mason Eckhart needed to hear. The possible permutations upon themes of faithlessness seemed infinite by this time of night.

Where did all the women with Big Hair lurk during daylight hours? Did they come out after sundown like vampires? And where, in this city, did one find shirts with mother-of-pearl buttons? So many mysteries.

His suit would reek of cigarette smoke, and Breedlove was going to sign off on his dry cleaning bills to remove the stink. The filthy habit always puzzled him. This crowd appeared to be living in a time warp, back in the days before the hazards of inhaling burning tobacco leaves were everywhere acknowledged and publicized, or they were in industrial-strength denial.

Danielle found it all quite fascinating.

Mason Eckhart ordered another rum and Coke to saturate his sorrows.

"Well, Miss Hartman, isn't it just about that tie of evening for you to tell me about Adam's latest bad behavior and how this time, you really are sending him to the Landfill of the Heart?"

"Landfill of the Heart? Mason, how do you think of these things?"

He drank deeply. "They just come to me."

"And maybe a better question, how do you say something like that and keep a perfectly straight face?"

"It's a gift."

He had done this miserable duty several times before, and knew how the evening would end. Danielle would tell him once more how badly Adam was treating her, and how she was going to leave him, but on the way to saying these things, she would become very drunk, so drunk he would almost carry her back to her quarters at Genomex. He made a mental note to have a conference with Breedlove about Danielle's drinking problem. Alcohol would affect her ability to cast a functional stealth aura and her overall reliability as an agent, and could even end her career as an agent.

And, if I continue drinking in this fashion, I could put my own career as an agent at risk.

Danielle giggled again. "I also wanted to see if I could get Adam to come into a place like the Rusty Spur."

"So, it is possible that in addition to the musical delights, I might also have the pleasure of setting eyes upon Adam? Surely, that is too much goodness contained in one evening."

"Why do you talk like that?"

"As a means of expressing dark humor and despair simultaneously, and also because I am drinking much too much." Mason Eckhart was more prone to tears than laughter at the moment. Even his capacity for dark humor was skewed far to the most impenetrably dark.

"You don't expect women to listen to you if you talk that way, do you? They'll think you're making fun of them."

"In many cases, that may be my intent."

"I used to think you were talking down to everyone. Now, I know you just cannot help yourself, and sometimes you're trying to be funny. Adam!"

"Speaking of something funny…off color…off-base…ill-conceived…miscreant."

As Adam approached in the gloom, Eckhart wondered briefly if he was hallucinating. Adam looked like a disco cowboy, wearing a black 70s outfit with chains, mirror shades, and a black cowboy hat. As he came closer, Eckhart perceived that the hat was bedizened with a pair of rattlesnake skulls.

Adam grabbed Danielle and swung her around a full three hundred and sixty degrees. "Yee-haw!"

Danielle giggled. Eckhart found himself fantasizing about a mute button for that giggle.

"I didn't expect to find you here, Mason."

"I'm watching over the integrity of the stealth program. I see you're wearing your totem animal." He pointed to the skulls.

Adam laughed. "Totem animal. That's good."

Eckhart knew the answer to his question, but he asked it anyway, just to be irritating to the two people with whom he would rather not share a planet.

"Does Jackie know where you are tonight, Adam?"

"Jackie?" Danielle seemed surprised. Good. She looked at Adam and then at Mason. "As in Jackie Eckhart?"

"The very one," Eckhart said, answering for Adam. He paid no particular attention to the unpleasant argument that followed, except to make certain Danielle did not wander off. Finally Adam stalked off into the darkness, and Danielle returned to Eckhart.

"Did you make him cry? I hope you did."

"Is that true about Jackie?"

"Heartbreakingly true. As far as Adam is concerned, all human females are fair game. He bothers with you because you are an interesting experiment. He'll tinker with you the rest of your life if you let him. If you believe he'll make you the Princess of Genomex, think again. My intelligence sources reliably relate that Adam makes this promise early and often. What a guy. I may have nightmares about that hat."

"I want to go home." Danielle did not look happy.

"Oh, good. My work day can finally end." He gulped the last of his rum and Coke.

Eckhart could never recall the taxi ride back to Genomex, or entering the building.

In one of the scariest moments of his life, Mason Eckhart woke up in a bed not his own, and unsure with whom he was sharing that bed. With considerable relief, he noted the body was not only warm but he could hear it breathing. He had not followed Adam home and murdered him.

Then he realized something else meaningful: he wasn't wearing anything. This was not good; it was definitely time to retreat to his little apartment.

Fortunately, the bathroom had a faint nightlight and he was able to collect his clothes by that glow. Switching on the bathroom light, he recognized Genomex architecture and he had sudden, unwelcome insight into whose bed he had been sharing and the nature of what he had done there.

And he had dreamt about those snake skulls.

He dressed in the bathroom and left the light on long enough to enter the bedroom unshod and peer into the face of… Danielle. Confirmation of his suspicions only made him feel worse.

Mason Eckhart's apartment was five blocks from the Genomex gate. He strolled through the clean darkness, glad to feel his head clearing but dreading what full daylight would bring.

Voicemail from Paul Breedlove awaited Eckhart, several messages in fact, each succeeding one more frantic than the one before, demanding he call as soon as he received it.

Has the fickle witch announced her latest adventure to the world, Paul Breedlove included? I would not be surprised.

"We have a problem, Mr Eckhart." Breedlove sounded deeply annoyed.

Eckhart was not without problems himself. Never in his life had he consumed so much alcohol, and the aftereffects were making him miserable.

"And that problem would be?" he asked coolly, but bracing for the anything.

"Danielle Hartman is gone. Run away. Packed up and left. Do you know anything about this?"

Perhaps she'll never stop running.

"Not a thing. I escorted her back to her quarters last night, and everything appeared as it should. She said nothing about being unhappy or about wishing she could leave."

"We have to go looking for her. Danielle must be found and brought back to Genomex, preferably before anyone outside of this organization finds out she's gone. She represents an investment of tens of millions of dollars."

"Have you asked Adam where she might be?"

"I've been trying to find him all morning."

"While Miss Hartman and I were at The Rusty Spur…"

"The what?"

"The Rusty Spur. An atmospheric country and western haven. I spent at least seven years of my life there last night, during which Adam dropped by. They had a heated argument."

"What about?"

"I couldn't follow it because of the volume level of the…music."

"Damn."

"Good hunting finding Adam."

Breedlove hung up.

Eckhart surprised himself with how easily he had been able to tell Paul Breedlove half-truths, to cover whatever he might have done to Danielle Hartman not so many hours before. He made a Post-ItTM note to himself to schedule an appointment with his doctor to have a lot of testing done for a number of unpleasant diseases.

Mason Eckhart's memory of the balance of that day remained confusing and fragmentary, and that was after several people told him what happened and showed him videotaped records of events.

Adam summoned him to an obscure, little-used portion of the facility called the Inducement Lab. Mutations had been induced there randomly, willy-nilly, chiefly in lower animals such as drosophila, the favorite of genetic research. But Breedlove and Adam had tampered with human embryos as well.

Some of the once upon a time embryos were aware and alive today, the oddest creations of the perverted research of Adam and Paul Breedlove. Many more had not survived, their mutations yielding individuals so malformed they endured only a few months of gestation. Breedlove collected these by the hundreds, and maintained them lovingly and carefully on back-lit shelves in a locked display room he shared with very few.

Years later, Mason Eckhart broke into this room and discovered Breedlove's assemblage of horrors. He ordered the collection carefully ashed and the residue gathered, and placed into steel tins sealed with electrical tape. But he could never think of a way of finally dealing with the pitiful remains respectfully without attracting the attention of the local police. Genomex would not bear a close look.

"What is this about, Adam? You may not have any particular duties, but I do have responsibilities requiring my attention."

"Where's Danielle? She appears to have run away from Genomex."

"Breedlove has been looking for you all morning to ask you that very question."

"Mason, you were charged with keeping watch on her last night."

"My duties ended when I returned her safely to Genomex."

"You're becoming a real problem for me, Mason."

"How inconvenient of me. How inconsiderate of me for living."

"Everywhere I turn, I find you there, standing in my way, questioning what I am doing."

"Adam, are you listening to yourself? This is beginning to sound more than a little demented. You're the adulterer. Fortunately, the company offers generous mental health coverage. I urge you to make the most of those enlightened benefits."

"You talk too much. You always have." Adam turned and walked briskly for the door. Eckhart followed him, at a slower, less urgent pace. He was startled to hear the bolts sliding into place.

What is Adam doing, locking me in here?

Eckhart had his answer almost immediately as Adam appeared at an observation window.

"I've turned up the field to full force. That should plunge your cells into irreversible chaos."

"Adam, everything that happens after the field is activated is videotaped. A record of your crime is being created every moment."

"But there is no audio. You will appear to be ranting to yourself. Goodbye, Mason."

Adam stupidly did not realize he was in a zone as unprotected as Eckhart, but after one minute of exposure he grew bored, set a timer, and left for a shielded gallery with chairs for viewing.

Mercifully for Eckhart, he had to endure only a few minutes of pain before he passed out and twitched involuntarily on the floor. After he stopped moving, Adam advanced the timer to 'off', unbolted the door, and then brazenly made for Eckhart's office.

Adam quickly typed a suicide email to Breedlove, intended to appear as if Eckhart had sent it. Breedlove was a creature of habit. Adam knew he would not return from his lunchtime stroll around the plant perimeter for exactly fifteen more minutes, making the 'suicide' timing work. He returned to his own lab and calmly signed and dated notebook pages while waiting for the storm to break.

As soon as Breedlove read the 'suicide' email, he paged Dr Hibbing to immediately go to the Induction Core. Breedlove ran nearly the length of the facility.

Unfortunately for Adam, Eckhart wasn't dead. Paul Breedlove found him sprawled on the floor, eyes open and glassy looking.

"What have you done to yourself, Mason?"

"Adam. Not me."

"What happened?" Hibbing asked.

"He sent me a suicide email. He's had a lot of personal problems in the last six months. They must have overwhelmed him."

"I don't even know what this unit does. How does it affect people?"

"Good question. I'm not sure exactly how a mature organism would be affected. Every cell in his body has probably sustained damage."

Eckhart tried to shake his head, but he lacked fine motor control. "No. Adam. Stop him."

"We have to get him to a hospital, Paul."

"No. He can't go there. If his state mimics that of the oldest mutants, his immune system will be useless in a few days. All the microorganisms harbored in a hospital would kill him. We've got to get him inside of the most sterile environment we can create. One of the clean rooms to begin with, for today."

"Be a damn shame if he's left like this," Hibbing said. "Eckhart was one of the most articulate men I've ever known."

"Adam," Eckhart insisted.

"How is Adam involved?" Hibbing asked Breedlove.

"He has caused Mason a lot of grief lately."

"You should disable this unit before anyone else gets ideas."

"I'm surprised Mason knew about its function. It has not been used since 1982, before he joined us."

Two adjoining clean rooms were prepared for Eckhart. Breedlove moved him forth and back, using one while the other was cleaned and disinfected. After Eckhart stabilized and survived five days, Breedlove put together the specifications for what would be a 20' X 40' glove bag, a sterile habitat for the long term, whatever long term proved to be.

Eckhart was in constant pain as his cells became dysfunctional. Breedlove kept him on powerful opiates and a regimen of sedatives to quell his incoherent ramblings, chiefly about Adam.

Sedating Eckhart was for Breedlove as much as it was for Eckhart. He was putting together longer and more meaningful phrases and Breedlove found their implications for Adam disturbing.

After about forty days, treatment became almost routine. Eckhart required transfusions of whole blood, since his body no longer produced red blood cells or any of the white blood cells. He bled almost as readily as a hemophiliac. His blood chemistry went crazy for all kinds of reasons, and was monitored carefully to prevent killing pH changes.

Antibiotics and antivirals wiped out normal gut flora and typical bacteria found on and in the skin. Painstakingly, gut flora were reintroduced, but maintaining them was difficult. Consuming solid food was impossible. Liquid supplements containing sterile, pre-digested, readily absorbed nutrients worked best.

One afternoon when Eckhart appeared unusually aware and alert, Dr Breedlove explained all of this to him. "And there is an additional effect: you are now sterile."

"How long can I go on living this way, Paul?"

"I have no idea. If I knew, I would tell you. I respect you too much to deceive you. No one's ever gone through what happened to you. This is all terra incognita; I'm making up the solutions as I go along."

"Has Adam been arrested?" Eckhart asked.

"Adam? What for?"

"Adam locked me in the core. He said he turned up something called the field full force. He was trying to murder me, Paul. That's a crime, yes?"

"I don't think Adam's capable of that, Mason. I think your memory has become confused."

"I think not, Paul. Was Adam trained in the operation of the Induction Core?"

"Yes, of course."

"Paul, I don't even know what it does. I'm your security guy. I'm not a technical person."

"Rest and plenty of sleep seem to be doing you a world of good. I think more of the same is called for."

"Please, Paul, no, I don't care to be kept in a fog."

"You're not strong enough to hold your own without lots of rest."

"Paul, no."

But Breedlove kept him full of sedatives anyway.

Other than his doctors and their support people, only Paul Breedlove, Andrea Chavez, and the facility psychologist, Dr Laura Varady had the stomach to continue visiting Eckhart. He was surviving, but had become frail and gaunt, a sad suggestion of his former self. For everyone else, the sight was too pitiful and haunting; they came one and never returned.

Deep within the layers of an opiate stupor, Mason Eckhart heard a familiar voice that he could not ignore, not even this many levels down.

Adam. Here.

He opened his eyes, turned towards the thick glass wall behind which Andrea sat. But she wasn't alone. Adam was standing there chatting and laughing, and punctuating his comments by touching her bare arm.

Eckhart summoned all the will left in him, and lunged out of bed, pounding both fists on the glass, deriving satisfaction from the way Adam startled at the sound, and even greater satisfaction from the fear flashing though his eyes when for a moment he thought Mason might come right through the glass.

"Dr Varady!" Andrea yelled to an adjacent office, the turned to Eckhart, horrified at the spreading bloody splatters from wounds on his hands and arms.

"Mr Eckhart, stop it, please."

He stopped, and stood glaring at Adam. "That has to leave."

Adam was laughing at Eckhart as Dr Varady ran in from the next office.

"You'd best not be here, Adam. Every cell in Mason's body has sustained damage." Dr Varady grasped Adam by the arm and began pulling him away from the glass. "Stop playing dumb, Adam. When Mason's been lucid, he told me what you did. This was no accident. You might con Breedlove, but not me. Leave Mason alone. Nobody knows how much longer he'll live. Allow him some peace."

"You talk too much, Varady," Adam said, but he heeded the psychologist's warning and left anyway.

Dr Laura Varady went up the to blood-streaked glass where Eckhart was leaning against, now too weak to keep his eyes open.

"He's gone, Mason."

"Adam…needs killing. Snakes should die."

Dr Varady turned to Andrea. "Dr Breedlove doesn't believe it, but I do. Andrea, Adam did this to Mason, intending to kill him. I can't prove it, so you probably shouldn't tell anyone else. If Adam dares to show up here again, call security and get him pitched out. I'm going to talk to Breedlove and have Adam's keycard access changed so he cannot enter this section."

"Adam did this, Mr Eckhart? I need to hear it from you."

"Yes, Andrea. He wanted to kill me."

"Mason, can you get yourself back into bed, or shall I suit up and come in there to help you?" Dr Varady asked.

"I can manage it."

Eckhart opened his eyes slowly. He seemed to be doing everything in slow motion these days.

"How are you feeling, Mason?"

He turned his head, slowly, to see Dr Laura Varady, in full biosuit, sitting in the chair beside his bed.

"I hurt all over, but especially in the arms." He raised up his left arm and saw the bandages. The right looked the same.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Adam came by, probably to see how my dying was going. He tried to murder me, some time back, didn't he? I have told you that, haven't I?" I seem to remember telling you about Adam locking me in the Inducement core. I did not dream that, did I?"

"No, you told me. Breedlove has kept you so heavily sedated I'm not surprised you're a little uncertain."

"When is Breedlove going to bring the police in and have Adam charged with attempted murder?"

"Never. He believes you sent him the hokey suicide email."

"What email?"

"Adam tried to cover his tracks by sending Breedlove an email ostensibly from you about how your life was over, etc.. He sent it from your computer. I knew you hadn't written it the first time I read it."

"And how did you know that?"

"Your speech –and writing—frequently have a style. You enjoy language. It shows. This writer was utilitarian, unimaginative, bland. In other words, Adam."

"One of these days Adam is going to make a mess of such magnitude not even Paul Breedlove will be able to protect him."

"I agree. But Adam and Paul have some sort of special relationship, and Paul has always taken care of Adam. Neither you nor I can change that."

"Unfortunately, very likely true. You've been here a lot, haven't you?" he asked.

"I didn't mind."

"Thank you."

"Andrea's been here a lot of hours, too. She's been taking good care of your things until they could be disinfected or sterilized."

"She's a good kid."

"She's a young woman, and I think she has a crush on you. She's been very protective of you. Be gentle with her."

"I don't feel like a suitable object of anyone's affection. I feel like useless protoplasm."

"You're beating everyone's projections, Mason. Most of the guys gave you no change. You've convinced me you're going to survive and stun them all. I don't think they have any idea just how tough you are, but I do." Dr Varady smiled.

"Did Breedlove ever find Danielle Hartman?"

"No. She vanished completely. Breedlove isn't happy about it, but fortunately, he's been preoccupied with you."

"I wish he'd stop feeding me so many sedatives."

"No chance of that after bloodying your arms this afternoon. I had quite a time cleaning all of your blood off the glass."

"Adam blights every life he touches."

"I think you're right, Mason. He is a curious personality. He does not seem negative, but that is the effect he has. Is there anything I can do for you before I go home?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine. I wish I could feel rational this way more often."

"Have faith, Mason, you're getting better."

The oversized glove bag was set up with furniture. Breedlove wasn't certain if Eckhart would live long enough to move into it, but he did. For the first time, the levels of sedatives were decreased.

To Andrea Chavez, Eckhart entrusted the key to his apartment. She supervised the moving of the residue of his life, his books, his music, photos, personal papers, clothing, and had it all shipped to Genomex. Jackie had absconded with anything of real worth.

Dr Varady sent the cheap furniture to a dealer who auctioned it and sent her a check for $42. She asked Eckhart what he needed that she could buy with that kind of money.

"A sharp knife to cut my way out of this cage."

She tilted her greying head and rolled her eyes at him the way she had done when her children were growing up. "But Mason, you could not survive out here."

"Dr Varady, this is not life. I can listen to just so much music, and read just so many books, but what is my purpose here? To satisfy Paul Breedlove's curiosity about how long he can keep me alive?"

"A lot of people have worked very hard to keep you alive. People you don't even know."

"I do not mean to sound ungrateful, but I want out of here. I want my old job back."

"That's impossible."

"Is it? The interior of this bag is supposed to be sterile, but it isn't. There are places inside where moisture condenses and mildew grows. Don't tell Breedlove; he'll panic. I'm awash in a constant rotation of antibiotics and antivirals. I have not died. I believe I can survive out there, probably with some additional accommodations."

Soon afterward, Eckhart began sloughing off skin and hair. His skin hung in thin shreds. He took to wearing gloves to prevent shedding skin into inconvenient places.

Not everyone knew about Eckhart's ongoing divorce. So it was that Jackie Eckhart was not only admitted and badged as a visitor, but was escorted to Eckhart.

Andrea Chavez was preparing a set of chemically sterilized CDs to be shunted inside via the air lock when she looked up to see Jackie standing there, silently staring at the back of Eckhart, with half of his dark hair gone, and skin on the back of his neck in shreds. The soft droning of pumps masked the sound of the women talking.

"Jackie…I don't think you should be here."

Jackie ignored her. "No one warned me that he looked like that. What's happening to him?"

"His skin is falling away from him. He's going to lose all of his hair. Mr Eckhart can be extremely volatile, which is not good for his blood chemistry. Sometimes it takes hours to bring everything back inside normal ranges, if something stressful happens."

"I just found out about this. I knew he was injured, but I had no idea it was like this. Adam called me."

"Don't mention Adam's name. Adam did this to him. I can call you tonight and tell you about it, but I don't believe Mr Eckhart is up to a confrontation."

"Andrea, I'm going to do what I need to do. You aren't going to tell me what to do." This she said loudly enough to be heard over the pumps.

Eckhart turned in his chair, stood, and walked slowly to the plastic wall.

"Ms Chavez, who allowed her in here?" His voice was calm, measured, and nearly free of emotion.

"I don't know, Mr Eckhart. Shall I call security?"

He shook his head.

"What happened to you, Mason?" Jackie asked.

"Your friend Adam happened to me. He tried to kill me." Eckhart started removing strips of skin from his face, and plugs of hair from his head. He held them out towards her. "This is the least of it, Jackie. You cannot see the worst part. Nobody knows where this will end."

"I would have been here before if I had known." Jackie began to cry freely.

"Jackie, why are you here?"

"I came to beg, Mason. I've been very foolish. I want things back the way they were."

"Nothing can ever be the same again," he said softly.

"Why not? Grey keeps asking for you. We were happy for a long time."

"Jackie, I did everything I knew to make the family I did not have. You destroyed it all. I still cannot understand why. All you ever had to say to Adam was "no", but you thought the Prince of Genomex offered you something better than I could."

"I've admitted I was foolish. Grey needs you. He wants to see you."

"Grey is never going to see me looking like this. I want him to remember me as I was, not as the freak I've become."

"When you're better, when you get out of there, can't we try?

"Jackie, they tell me I may never be any better than this. I may become worse. No one knows. Breedlove thinks I'll spend the rest of my life in here. I have no functioning immune system. That means ordinary air, carrying bacterial spores, could kill me. Just touching someone else could lead to a fatal infection. They tell me I'm not going to be able to touch anyone ever again. Or touch much of anything unless it's in here, sterilized and disinfected."

"That's horrible."

"Yes, it is. Even if I could, I would not take you back. I invested you with more trust and faith than I have done with any other human being, except perhaps poor dead, drowned Marc. I gave you no reason to doubt me. None. Ever. When you tossed all that aside, you destroyed my capacity for trust. I cannot trust you. I cannot trust anyone. I am not who I was, Jackie. I am not sure you, or anyone else, would want who I've become. I believe your tears are real, I believe your remorse is genuine. Consider it my failing, if you must. Too much has happened to me to go back…and it's awfully late to finally be repentant, Jackie."

"What about Grey and the girls?"

"Genomex has offered and my attorneys have advised me to accept a settlement. Ninety per cent of it will be locked into a fund usable only for college expenses. Whatever is left over will be split three ways when the girls turn forty."

"Forty?"

"I want them to work hard and make their own way in the world, and not be thinking Daddy's magic money will save them."

"That does make sense."

"I trust my accountant has been sending you child support checks each month?"

Jackie nodded. "Aren't you going to see them?"

"Not as long as I look like this. I'll contact them in my own fashion should things change. Tell them the truth. Tell them I'm deathly ill, and require medical attention constantly. That's perfectly true."

"You're breaking my heart, Mason."

He took in her face for a long moment. "Well, now we're even, aren't we?"

"That's cold."

"Yes, very cold." He turned from her. "Ms Chavez, could you please escort Jacqueline Eckhart to the front reception area, and leave unambiguous instructions that she never again be allowed past the front desk again?"

"Yes, Mr Eckhart." Andrea studied him, disturbed by what she had heard, realizing Eckhart had metamorphosed into…someone else, someone she did not know, and she had not noticed the transition.

"Jackie, please don't make any more fuss. Please never come near me. I have no desire to see your face again."

One of Andrea's virtues was patience, but today's peculiar 'fashion show' made even patient Andrea want to scream.

Prior to his "coming back from the dead", as Mason Eckhart termed his permanent exist from the glove bag and return to his old position as head of security, he was trying various assortments of wigs and clothes, searching not for the combination which would most nearly remind people of his former self, but that which would make the most people uncomfortable or even fearful.

"But why do you want to do this?" Andrea had asked.

"There aren't many people to whom I would give an honest answer to that question, but you are one of the few. Just don't tell anyone else. That includes Breedlove."

Andrea sighed. "Okay."

"I'm not who I was. My muscles have atrophied and I'm not as strong. As long as I wear a faux skin, I'm going to have trouble staying cool enough, and exercise to regain muscle is going to be difficult, maybe impossible. I've even lost some height. Hadn't you noticed?"

"No."

"Everyone here knows I nearly died. If I come back dressing and looking as I did, changes will be obvious. I will be perceived as a weakling."

"Anyone who watched you survive knows otherwise. I know otherwise. You're darn hard to kill. Adam knows that now."

"I'm going to need to keep people at a distance, and they're going to have to do as I say without an argument. 'Better for the Prince to rule by fear…', well you know the rest."

"I do, and I am appalled. Dr Varady's going to yell at you."

"In Dr Varady's line of work, being sweet and grandmotherly works in her favor. I have to present a different aspect to people. Which works the best?"

"That's easy," Andrea said. "Any of the black suits, but especially the pinstripes."

"And the wigs?"

"Well, the auburn is eye-catching, but the white…is just plain creepy."

"Creepy is good, in this case, Ms Chavez."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "I cannot take that back, can I?"

"No. I believe I'll try several variations on white…"

Andrea made a face. "I can hear them now. 'Mr Creepy'."

"Hmm, good. Wait'll Breedlove sees this."

"His aging heart might stop. Be kind. Varady might scream."

"I gave this a good deal of thought, Ms Chavez. Adam still works here. I have to be able to handle him—and he tried to kill me. I have to be able to make anyone else take me seriously, and not think they can ignore what I say because next week I might be belly up because of infection. They have to think they might be out on the street next week because they displeased Mr Creepy."

"Varady will scream when you tell her this."

"She will. But she'll understand immediately."

"Well, Dr Varady, what do you think?"

Dr Laura Varady was not a sheltered woman by anyone's measure, but she shrieked when she saw Mason Eckhart in his black pinstripes and white wig.

"I'm sorry, Mason. That is you in there, isn't it, behind those glasses?"

"It's me. And I thank you for your reaction, which confirms the correctness of my choices."

"There's an explanation in here somewhere. Anytime, Mason."

"And, as always from me, a highly rational one."

"Halloween is still a long way off."

"I could not have done it without the help and comments from Ms Chavez—I believe in giving credit where credit is due—but Dr Varady, this is how I intend to look for my return to work when I 'come back from the dead'."

"Good God, Mason. What are you thinking? I cannot believe Andrea likes the looks of this."

"Oh, she was appalled. That's how I knew I had just the right look."

"I'm waiting patiently for the rationality to seep into our conversation."

"Fear is the object, Dr Varady. People who knew me before as the workaholic family guy won't take me seriously if I return as I did, less a wife, less a family, less at least two inches, and less a good deal of muscle mass. I would appear weak…which I am. Everyone knows I almost died. They won't take me seriously, not unless I can convince them that I have passed through the fire, and emerged as someone else."

Dr Varady shook her head. "Oh, Mason. I perceive the logic and rationality of your plan, but you are talking about creating an inhuman persona. You're highly intelligent. Adoption of such a persona will cut you off from people. Your life will be challenging enough without deliberately alienating yourself from people."

"I cannot be near any of them physically. And I dare not allow anyone close to me emotionally. You know my history."

"And I know everyone's not rotten, like your crazy father or Jackie or Adam. You know that, too."

"I understand that intellectually. What I must do to protect myself emotionally, well, that is another world altogether. I would appreciate your not making any written notes about this conversation, or explaining what I've said to anyone."

"What if Andrea comes to me? She thinks a lot of you, especially since Breedlove and Adam have disappointed her lately."

"I've already explained things to her, and sworn her to secrecy."

"Please don't do this, Mason. You are one of the most decent men I've known. You've survived so much and stayed decent and good. Don't let Jackie and Adam destroy you."

"Each of us has limits…and for the sake of protecting my children…I have to protect myself in this imperfect fashion."

"This is a little like watching someone die."

"It feels a little like that."

"I hope you change your mind, but I know you won't. Come what may, Mason, I'll understand –and I'll defend you—and I'll remain your friend."

"Thank you, Dr Varady."


End file.
